Signed, Lovino Vargas
by i-craft-ladders-fanfiction
Summary: "I have decided to keep a journal documenting my day-by-day life and to share life stories. Why? Answer: My grandmother gave me this leatherback journal before she died and told me to do with it what I will. Fill it up with what I want. Make her proud." Warnings for things such as alcohol and drug abuse, depression, suicide thoughts and actions, and major character death!
1. Chapter 1

_January 1st, 2017  
_ _3:28 p.m._

I have decided to keep a journal documenting my day-by-day life and to share life stories. Why? Answer: My grandmother gave me this leatherback journal before she died and told me to do with it what I will. Fill it up with what I want. Make her proud.

So that's what I'm going to do.

Happy New Year. 2017. . . Nothing's happened yet. What do I write today? What about sharing with you my New Year's Eve?

My little brother had went out while I stayed in on New Year's Eve. He asked me if I wanted to join him, I shrugged and told him that I'd rather stay in this year. Truthfully, I'm not too fond of his friends and probably would've spent most of the night hiding in the corner nursing my drink and avoiding everyone.

I don't have many friends of my own so it was laying on the couch and falling asleep before midnight that eve.

And my brother came stumbling in with a huge-ass hangover in the middle of the day today, popped in a couple Tylenol, and passed out in bed. That was it.

. . . Not very interesting, I know. It's only a half-past three so maybe I'll update you later?

 _Lovino Vargas_

* * *

 _5:13 p.m._

My brother woke up. He wouldn't stop going on about the party he was at last night. Loud music, lots of alcohol, pretty woman. "You should've went, Lovi!" he exclaimed. "Oh, you would've had a grand time!"

No I wouldn't. He knows I wouldn't. Maybe he just assumes that someday I would find the same interests as him. What am I even interested in again? I don't remember.

Maybe that's the real reason why I stayed home? I wouldn't have fun because I don't know what fun is anymore. When was the last time I had fun again? It's probably been years since I can't think back to recent times where fun was evident in my life.

Fun. Interests. Hobbies. Such foreign concepts. Why did this all just occur to me now?

I can remember when I was eight and I would go outside and play with my brother. There are woods out near my house that we would go exploring in. Would I still be interested in that now? Should I try? Maybe I'll ask if we could take a walk in the woods again? Things sure have changed a lot since then. Have the woods changed or are they still the same? I feel like I could map them out like the back of my hand. That's how often we used to go out.

But that isn't true today. Did I really have fun when we went back there, or am I just imagining it now?

I remember our walks back. We must've been laughing because I don't remember frowning except for the one time we didn't return until after dark.

Oh how much had changed after that… We returned to our yard and waiting on the porch was our grandfather. His look was a mixture of anger, sorrow, and worry.

"Where have you been?" his voice was soft and painful. "We tried calling you in for dinner but the two of you weren't out here."

He always held himself as a strong and unafraid man, but in that moment he looked as if he could've cried. Truthfully, the only time I remembered seeing him cry was after grandma had passed. That won't be for another six years down the road. This time he put on the façade, but he must've cried after we had went to bed.

He scooped my five-year-old brother into his arms, stroked his hair and repeatedly murmured "Oh, Feli. Oh, Feliciano."

No surprise there. I was never grandpa's favorite, and being the older brother he expected me to be a little wiser and come back on time.

Now I remember why we stopped going out.

 _Lovino Vargas_

* * *

 _5:32 p.m._

Feliciano. My brother, Feliciano. Maybe I should explain him more before I go off on even more tangents.

My brother holds a kind of atmosphere that make people fawn over him. I never understood it. He has always been everybody's favorite. It's not that I am hated, I'm loved by lots, but people have just always preferred him over me.

They won't admit it, but it's true. I'm not as beloved as Feliciano is or ever will be.

When grandpa held Feli and made sure he was okay that night we came back late, that's when I started figuring things out: I'm loved, but Feliciano's essence draws you in more.

No kidding. I've been drawn in too. After the deaths of both of our parents, I felt responsible for taking care of Feliciano and I started to feel attached to him. I understood.

And I understood when grandpa held him in his arms while also holding back tears, because I would've done the same thing.

And as we grew up I noticed it even more. Maybe it's his innocent appearance? Or maybe it's all an illusion we see? But he's the one thing I will love and protect more than anything else in the world. He's my little brother, even over the stupid things he does - like getting drunk on New Year's - I still see the innocent five-year-old he once was.

Maybe that's another reason why I didn't want to come with him New Year's Eve? I would have to face the real person my brother has grown up to be, and that's somebody I don't want to meet.

"Ugh… I have such a hangover…" he grumbled as he came home.

I didn't want to know that this is the Feliciano now and not who he was then.

"I'm taking a nap." then he brought his cup of water up to his lips and downed the two Tylenol.

He went to our bedroom without another word my way. It makes me wonder what made him decide to grow up as a partier? Will I ever find out?

Yes… Things have changed. It's strange how siblings can change so much. Somebody you're supposed to know but has turned into a stranger.

Maybe I'm just old fashioned and can't stand change?

I guess this journal can help me figure it out? We'll see.

 _Signed,  
_ _Lovino Vargas_


	2. Chapter 2

_January 2nd, 2017_  
 _9:13 a.m._

So far so good. I haven't broke my streak but it's only day two so let's not break out the candles and celebrate just yet.

I was wondering what I could write about today. I'm quite a boring human being who does nothing interesting to write about. That's what I've concluded anyways.

Today I'll share with you something that you could be wondering after a yesterday. Who were my parents and how did they die?

Marco and Alessia Vargas. My brother and I were very young when they passed away.

My father went first. I hardly remember him and sadly Feliciano never met him. I was only two when his heart gave out.

I guess when I asked what will happen to him at his funeral my very pregnant and teary-eyed mother had told me: Daddy had a bad heart but it was full of love and he will meet the man upstairs to watch over us always.

I didn't quite understand what she meant when I was a toddler but now I curse Angina for taking him away before he got to meet Feliciano. Would his heart full of love have been trapped by his youngest son too?

One month later my mother gave birth to Feliciano, giving the tiny baby - who would never know - his father's reversed name. Feliciano Marco Vargas. Just three days after that I turned three, but I'm pretty sure we didn't celebrate that birthday as my widowed mother tried to figure out how she was going to take care of a toddler, a newborn, and pay the bills when she had never worked a day in her life.

That's when my grandparents had us sell the house and move in with them. It was cramped living there at first with all the baby stuff taking up most of the room in the tiny two bedroom home. The three of us shared the smaller of the two rooms. Then my mother's problems arose and her bed basically became the couch in the living room.

Once again I was too young to know exactly what happened to her but she was gone all day only to come stumbling in, her voice slurred, and sometimes her eyes looked bloodshot.

Drugs and alcohol are the two worst things a person can get addicted to. I had to sit and watch my mom deteriorate from both.

She was a very sweet young woman from what I remembered of her good days. She had beautifully dark long curls and porcelain-like skin that was entirely blemish free. Mom was never a big woman in height and weight but she was healthy. Then when she started abusing the drugs and alcohol she started to look sickly. And she was, I just didn't realize it.

I think my mother wanted to die. She gave me her engagement ring shortly before it happened. There was no explanation, no will, just a ring left to me so I had something in remembrance of her.

I was five. What was I supposed to do with it? I didn't tell grandma, grandpa, or anyone! But I didn't lose it.

I repeat: I. Was. Five. The phone rang, grandma answered it, she wailed. Mom had never came home. And she never will. She overdosed at a "friend's" house. The same "friend" who sold her the drugs and was arrested that same night.

Maybe they kind of were a real friend if they risked their job and record to call the cops and an ambulance. Most drug dealers are too fucked up to even do something with an overdosed person in their house.

Now Feliciano and I were orphans who lived with our grandparents on a little retirement income.

Maybe that was when the woods became adventures for us? It took us away from the life we were stuck with where we could play pretend.

It's amazing! I think this journal might be putting the pieces together for me! I can't wait to see what we discover next time!

Lovino Vargas

* * *

 _11:00 a.m._

Grandpa woke up and prepared a breakfast. One good thing about being 100% Italian are our cuisines. And with grandpa having immigrated to America from Italy, everything is authentic. The delicious aromas of the brewing coffee and the homemade rolls baking in the oven lured me out to the kitchen.

He wished me a good morning as he wiped his hands on his apron and asked me to fetch the raspberry jam from our fridge. I nodded and as I opened the fridge to peer inside I overheard Feliciano emerge from our bedroom.

"Ah. . . Good morning, Feli!" grandpa had greeted my brother with. I turned around to see our grandpa giving Feliciano a peck on a cheek. Something he always did as greeting to him, but never to me.

I sat the jam on our counter just as the oven buzzed to announce that our bread rolls are done. Grandpa goes for it but Feliciano stops him and takes the oven mitts. "I have it, grandpa." he had said before taking out the baking tray full of rolls.

He sat out the rolls to cool down then poured all three of us a cup of coffee, even making sure to put in our preferred amount of milk before handing a mug over to me and grandpa.

"Thank you, Feli." grandpa takes a sip out of his coffee and hums his satisfaction.

I sit at our kitchen table quietly as the other two men talk about whatever and I nurse my mug. My eyes focus on the rolls, steam still rises but I don't care as I stand up and go toward them. I grab a plate from our china cabinet and pick up a couple warm rolls. I spread the jam on my rolls and go back to my seat.

I decide to interrupt the two men as I take a bite out of my roll and asked Feliciano with my mouth full if he'd like to go on a walk with me today. He shrugged and said "Why not" before he got up and grabbed his own breakfast. "Would you like some, grandpa?"

And for the first time in who knows how long. . . I smiled. . . it wasn't fake, it wasn't forced, it was a smile that has missed my face as much as I missed feeling it there. Feliciano and I were going for a walk for the first time since that night we came back late. Will it still be the same as back then?

Lovino Vargas

* * *

 _2:00 p.m._

We took a walk for almost two hours! It was a breath of fresh air. Although it was quiet between us except for a few memories that we shared it was one of the best moments in my life.

We looked around. Everything was basically the same as I remembered it. A couple trees have sadly fallen and are now rotting away but there was one significant tree that still stood. It was a large cottonwood that almost stood out from the rest of the trees in the woods. I pointed it out to Feliciano and ran towards it.

"It's beautiful, Feli!" I exclaimed.

Feliciano walked towards it behind me. "It hasn't changed a bit, has it?"

I ran my hand along the bark. It certainly hadn't. It still stood high and proud. I thought of us climbing up and resting on the branches, looking down at the world like we were giants. One time I said that we should take a spare tire and tie some rope around a low branch to make a swing. Grandpa helped us and although the tire had eventually fell off the rope still dangled from the branch.

Feliciano held the frayed rope in his hands and looked up at the tree. I followed his gaze. This is the tree that was the center of our pretend games, it was home base, and I almost forgot that it existed.

I took the rope from Feliciano and swung back and forth on it. Feliciano laughed and clapped his hands at me, it felt like we were kids again. I never wanted this moment to end.

But it did when Feliciano's phone buzzed. I didn't even think that we could get reception out here. I guess we do. Feliciano looked down at the message displayed on his phone and then to me. We should get back so I can get ready to go out tonight.

My happiness faltered slightly as I nodded. I jumped off the rope and we went back home and cleaned ourselves up. He left with his friends shortly after that. I waved goodbye as he ran out the door and into the backseat of the car. He never looked back or gave any goodbye. They pulled out.

And that was where it ended.

Lovino Vargas

* * *

 _9:12 p.m._

HE CAME HOME FUCKING SMASHED! I'M SO PISSED I CAN'T BELIEVE HE GOT DRUNK AFTER ALL THAT! I THOUGHT MAYBE HE'D STAY SOBER AFTER BRINGING UP OUR CHILDHOOD!

Maybe I should just give up. He grew up and it's impossible to see him as a child that he once was.

I guess I should just go to bed before my tears cause the ink to run. I just can't believe that the one time I thought we were going to bond he went out and drank the evening away. Now he's asleep in our room and faintly smells of vomit.

This is goodnight.

 _Signed,_  
 _Lovino Vargas_


End file.
